Golden Years
by SunnydaleGoldenGirl
Summary: A woman from Methos' dark past returns to Seacouver. Did she really reform? Or is she up to the same old tricks? Character rebirth.  Starts with a flashback from Methos' Four Horseman days. Really good story. Review. Plz. There can be only ONE! DM.AD
1. Iliana of Devon

**Summary:** A woman from Methos' dark past returns to Seacouver. Did she really reform? Or is she up to the same old tricks? Character rebirth. Starts with a flashback from Methos' Four Horseman days.

**WARNING: **Attempted Rape, Violence, Language, and a Wonky Time-line because I don't know when the hell this is supposed to take place.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Highlander, thats the creator's joy. I am in LOVE with ALL things HIGHLANDER and have been since the day I was born. If you don't believe me, ask my 'rentals.

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Chapter 1- Iliana of Devon

**Flashback: Bronze Age Devon, England.**

Fire, the village of Kingsbridge was alight with the fire that these madmen had caused. Rampent chaos spred throughout the peasants and even the few Nobles of Kingsbridge. I had followed their carnage across four lands. Kingsbridge wasn't the first and it certainly wasn't the last. Though I knew nothing of this village, and nothing of the people, I did know that they had done nothing to charge these men to destroy it. They were as I was, Immortal, though most of them were young, a mere 200 years in age. The chaos that bleeds through this new country was fresh. I lived in the first village of Devon that they had attacked, Barnstaple. I had lived there only 20 years, but I was the only one to survive, so I called Devon my home. In honor of their memory. To trick these madmen would be hard. They were too sick on their own adrenaline to know that I had been tracking them. Besides, who looks to a woman when they can kill men? Or children? These men did not sense that I was one of them because they were too blind to see it. Though one of them, one of them was old, older than I, yet he was one of them, the strongest of them and the first to charge in and kill the innocense of the land. England was young, by my standards, innocense did still reside here, though it was weigning. The few Romans that had chosen to stay and make the country in the name of their God were tyrants that wished to take over land rather than busy themselves with helping those in the very country they lived in. The Old One jumped from his horse and walked around the flurry of moving bodies, stabbing one or two in his path. Then, I saw it. He had sensed me. The others were wrapped in carnage, ignoring the signs. I knew he would be the first to find my presence here. I had no sword on my person, so I walked out of the village as far as I could, hoping he could not track my path. I did this slowly, as not to call attention to myself. As it were, they were more interested in the ones who were running about. I reached the hill top overlooking the destruction and pillage of Kingsbridge. I sat on this hill, but gasped as cold steel touched the nape of my neck through my shock of matted blond hair. "You awfully young to be as good at tracking as you are." The Old One said.

"I'm not as young as I look. Nor is it hard to track you ruffiens." I stated, not moving from my spot. He had made no move to take my head, and I wasn't going to give him a reason to do so.

"How long have you been tracking us?" He asked, not moving the sword.

"Since you attacked my village, Barnstaple." I answered honestly. I was going to die anyway, he knew what I was and would kill me, take my Quickening. For he knew as well as I, that there was but one lasting rule among Immortals, in the End there can be only One.

"Why did you track us, child?" He asked. Was it possible that he did not know what I was? No. Impossible. He knew, he was toying with me.

"What does it matter? Kill me and get it over with, I'm not one for short conversation." I said calmly, looking out at his fellow predators, ripping the village to shreds, unaware of his absense.

"Why do you wish for death? Your village begged for their life, as did this one. Or is it, that you want to die? Because you have nothing to live for?" He said these words with bite, as though he were trying to anger me.

"I don't wish for death. I've lived too long, seen to much, yes. But you are a brute killer, why should I expect you to spare me?" Felt the blade move from my shoulder, I thought for sure he was lifting it up to take that final blow.

"I should take your head right now, keep you from becoming one of us." The sword stabbed into the ground next to me and he crouched down. He moved my hair from my neck. "Maybe, though, just maybe, I should help your process." I was right, he thought that I was destined to become an Immortal, not an already too old to remember my mother's face or where I was born.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but you are too late. As I told you before, I am older than I look." I stood and pulled his sword. He stood and looked at me shocked. I placed the blade to his neck. "Not only are you naive, but now you are weaponless."

He smiled at me, cockily. "What do you think you are doing with that? You haven't the skill or the training to kill me."

I laughed shortly. "You think me a child? I have been trained by the most skilled swordsmen in Rome and Greece. Egyptian kings have fallen by my hand. You know not of my skills or training. What do I call you, if I am to be your downfall?" I questioned. He smiled. The two halves of his face, blue and skin colored, scrunched into the smile.

"Death. My name is Death. And yours, if you are to be my killer?" He asked.

"Iliana of Devon." I drew back, to make my final strike.

"Wait, dearest Iliana, might I make a suggestion, before you kill me?"

I hesitated, but nodded, not releasing the hilt of the sword. "What?"

"This." And I felt a sharp blow hit the back of my head, and the world went into darkness.

**Present**

I wrapped the warm peacoat around me. The weather in Seacouver, Washington could freeze the hair off a cat. I reached the building I knew that he lived-well, occupied, half of his time. I walked through the doors to a gymnasium. It was a nice gym, if not a little worn down. I mean, how can they not call a decorator? Its not like its that expensive. I know for a fact that atleast two Immortals live there. They could afford it. I sat there for a second then sensed one of the said Immortals arrive. I turned to see an elevator land, and the screen lift. The man in the elevator had long, dark hair. He was broad and handsome. He drew his sword within sight of me. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, who are you?" He asked.

I smiled. "Put your sword down, Highlander. I'm not here for your head. Or anyone elses. I was hoping if you could help me find an old friend, Adam Pierson?" I asked. He brought his sword down and walked to me.

"Can I offer you a drink?" He asked, making his way towards an office.

"Tea, if you have it." He nodded and started to set up the maker.

"You never answered my question, who are you?" He questioned. He offered a seat and I took it.

"Elena, Elena Elden. Thanks." I said when he handed me the tea. He sat down on the otherside of the desk.

"So, how have you known Adam?" He asked.

"Years. We go way back." He stood and went across the desk.

"Let me take your jacket." He offered. I thanked him and stood. I unbuttoned my coat and he was standing behind me, hands on the collar.

I removed the jacket and he took it from me, hanging it up on a coat rake. "Hmm. The age of chivalry isn't dead. Nice to know." I smiled at MacLeod. He gave me a brief smirk and returned to his chair.

"It might be awhile before Adam shows, so-"

"I'm in no hurry. I wouldn't mind working out in your gym though. It seems like an amazing practice area." I said looking at the floor. He nodded and we went onto the floor. He handed me a boffing sword (boffing sword is a piece of pvc piping with cushioning around it, held on by ducktape.) I tied up my long blond hair and removed my high heeled boots. He bowed, and I bowed. We crossed swords, politely. Then he made his attack and I blocked. I striked and he blocked. He brought his sword down and tripped me. I fell, but not as he'd hoped. I was in a splits position and when he brought his sword down, I blocked efficiently. I brought my right leg around and tripped him, his sword flew away forgotten. With my left leg, I pinned him on his back while symultaneously pulling my body up just enough to stradle the Highlander. I pulled my sword up and put it to his chest. He just looked at me. "Guess this means I win?" I asked.

He smiled and nodded. "You're very good." He said. I smiled back.

I threw my sword away towards his. "Good to see I'm not rusty." Then we felt it, the presence of another Immortal. Long life line.

"MacLeod, I brought more beer. You weren't upstairs-" He stopped and looked at us. "And now I know why." How odd it must've looked. Even to a casual observer, it would've looked wrong. I, a woman who looked no older than 16, which I think was my age at my time of death, I couldn't remember, stratling a man who looked to be about 35 on the floor of a gymnasium. But, to _him_, it must've appeared worse. I stood up and helped MacLeod up as well.

"We were boffing, Me-Adam." Duncan said in explanation.

He held up a hand, stopping him. "No need to explain, Duncan." He dropped the brown bag on the floor and walked towards me. I was in the middle of the room. "Iliana. Or do you go by something else now?" He asked.

"Iliana is fine. Its been along time, Adam." I said.

"MacLeod knows." He said. "And yes, its been 300 years."

MacLeod walked around at us. "I'm confused." He said. We ignored him.

"What are you doing here?" _He_ questioned.

"I came for your help, Methos. I've missed you." I said the last part in a whisper.

He crossed his arms. "What do you need my help with?" He asked, doubt in his voice.

I pulled the sleeve of my black Oxford shirt up, to reveal my tattoo. "If you'd been to a meeting, you would know that."

"When did you become a Watcher?" He asked.

"50 years ago. Its better than having them hunt me down, just as they've tried to hunt you. They won't put me on my case though. You were lucky." He walked around me like a predator stalking his prey. He really didn't trust me. Not that I deserved it.

"How have you survived being in the Watchers for 40 years? Daughter?" He asked. I nodded. "How did you know I was here?"

"Dawson knows who I am. He was the only one I trusted, since I knew he was friends with MacLeod. He's the one who told me you were here. He knew I'd been trying to find you." He went to the far wall and grabbed a real sword from its sheath. He pointed it at me.

"You shouldn't have come." He said. I looked at him slowly.

"Would you kill me? Unarmed?" I asked. He shook his head. He grabbed another sword and threw it at me.

"After all these years, you shouldn't have returned."

**Flashback: Bronze Age Devon, England.**

I woke up, groggily. The Earth seemed to spin. I became aware of an arguement not 10 feet from where I lay. It was not of my interest, so I paid it no attention. I put my arms on the ground below me and tried to lift up, but I was too weak. My arms gave way and I fell back to the earth. I groaned in agany, and the arguement was silenced. I heard feet stomping towards me, but I dared not open my eyes. Someone picked me up and turned me onto my back. I opened my eyes, to meet the terrifying face of one of the tyrants that raided the villages, it wasn't the Old One. The last I remembered, I was about to take the Old One, called Death's head and a sharp blow, undoubtibly from the hilt of a sword, then the darkness. It took my eyes a second to adjust. "You woke in the knick of time, child." The brute said. I dared not answer. I heard tearing cloth and felt fresh air hit my flesh. "Its been a long while since I've had one so young." Clumsily, he was trying to unsheath his natural weapon, and when he did, I knew what was coming. "I pray you a virgin." Was all he said. (The lack of good grammer was meant) I awaited the blow to come but instead his weight was lifted off of me. My eyes were shut, I knew not who my savior was or if I were even saved. I felt my body being lifted and I opened my eyes. The light stung and I waited for them to adjust. I looked into the face of the one holding me. 'Twas Death. And I looked upon the face of Death and knew not sorrow, but joy. (If someone could tell me if thats a quote or not, it'd be much ablidged.) He was the savior, though everything about him said opposite. Could this enraged killer hold any form of compassion? Or was he planning on being the one to do it? I saw that we had reached a river and he threw me down on the bank.

"Clean yourself, you haven't bathed in weeks, if you've been tracking us that long. I'll leave you some of my clothes, but then you leave. You do not return. If you do, Kronos will kill you. But he'll do much, much worse than that." And with that, he began to walk away.

"Why did you save me?" I ventured to question. He rounded on me, his face no kinder than when he'd dropped me.

"I am many things, and I admit freely to being each of those things. But, I will not allow for one of my men to defile a body such as yours. Though you may well be beyond your apparent years, your body is still young." He knew that he was showing his weakness and he spat it out like poison.

"Is it possible that you have such compassion? I remember not how old I was when death crashed through my doors and I was taken into this existance, but I was aged well beyond 16 years, yet you still worry for my well being?" I admitted freely to him, questioning his awareness of such feeling was dangerous, I knew this and still did so.

"It is not out of compassion that I save you. It is out of my own disgust at such things." He turned once again.

"The man, Kronos, you called him. He has another name, does he not? I heard someone call out to him in the village, naming him War. Does that mean you have another name as well?" He looked at me.

"I do. Some call me Methos. It has been my name since my memory could serve me well." He answered.

"May I call you that? Rather than Death?" I asked.

He came towards me where I stood and grabbed my arms. "You call me nothing. You bathe, you clothe, you leave. Unless you are prepared to be one of us, unless you are prepared to be a killer." He said this with furocious passion. If nothing else, he was a passionate man. His face was within inches of mine. Though Greecian beauty was caked in mud and my golden hair was matted and dirty, I knew that no man would be able to resist me. It was then my decision was made.

"Teach me." I replied and placed my hands on the back of his head, intertwining my fingers with the locks of his long, darkened hair. I crashed my lips on his, kissing him with all my might. In Greece, we were taught to be open with our sex, no holding back. If desire took hold, bring it forth. Desire for a man I should otherwise hold none for did come and I brought it forth. At the beginning, he was taken aback, then he returned the kiss. His tongue tore into my mouth, and I willingly let it. There was passion in this man, so much more than I had thought possible. No wonder he was a killer, there was a fire in him and that was his outlet. I wanted to know more of this passion, to know how to feel this passion in my own person. As quickly as our kiss had heated up, was as abruptly it ended. He shoved me off.

"Clean yourself. Dress and come to the camp. Do not do that again if the others are in view." With that he left. I saw clothes discarded on the bank at my feet.

**Present**

"What did you expect us to do? Roll out the welcome mat?" He questioned.

He swung his sword and I ducked. "No. But I didn't expect you to try and take my head either." I returned his swing and he blocked. I backed away and tried to avoid his blade. "I don't want to fight you, Methos."

"Then you shouldn't have returned." He charged and I threw my sword away and got down on my knees. The action caused him to faulter. But he raised his sword.

"Do it. Take my head. For my crimes I deserve to die." He started to swing, but stopped again. "Please. I'm here for the taking. Do it. Please, Methos, just do it." I begged. Again, he hesitated.

"Maybe you should hear her out."

"Stay out of it, MacLeod." Methos barked. Methos looked at me.

"I've been in this position before, many times, in many places. Yet every time I am, you refuse. This time, don't hesitate, don't back away. Swing that sword, take my head, take my power. I've lived too long, seen too many things. You wish me dead, now do it!" I yelled. He yelled and threw his sword across the room.

"Get out of here, and don't come back." He said. I got up and left, leaving coat and sword behind.

_Duncan and Methos' P.O.V._

They went up to Duncan's apartment above the gym. Methos threw Duncan a beer, took one for himself and restocked the fridge. His thoughts trying to avert what happened down in the gym. He popped the cap from his bottle and sat down on Duncan's couch. Duncan watched him as he lowered his head back against the armrest and close his eyes. "Methos, who was she? Really?" Duncan asked.

"Are you sure you want to know, MacLeod?" Methos asked not opening his eyes.

"No, I'm not. But you're going to tell me anyway." Duncan answered, sitting in his chair.

"Fine." Methos said sitting up and looking at Duncan. He took in a deep breath. "I met Iliana in the Bronze Age. The Horsemen and I were riding through Devon, pillaging and burning every village we came across-"

"Elena is Iliana, then? And I don't need details on your excertions, Methos." Duncan cut in.

"Yes. Iliana was living in Barnstaple, the first village we hit once entering Devon. We thought we'd killed everyone, but I had sensed her there, but I didn't know how young she looked and I couldn't pick her out from the rest of the bodies. When we moved on from that village, she had began tracking us. I finally caught her overlooking the destruction of Kingsbridge. I thought she wasn't aware of her Immortality. I mistook her youthful appearance and I expected her to be just as young as she looked. She wasn't. She's old. Almost as old as I am. She nearly took my head, because I was so careless. Kronos knocked her unconscious before she could do it. When she woke up, Kronos tried to rape her. Even then, I wasn't up to rape. I pulled him off of her, brought her down to the river. I gave her clothes and told her to clean up. I told her that when she was done, that she should leave. Unless she wanted us to turn her into one of us. A killer. She replied by kissing me. So thats what we did. We turned her into a killer and she was worse than I could ever have been. When we reached Cassandra's village. Once we had, and I kept her alive, I asked for Iliana to leave with me. She wouldn't, she wouldn't even consider it. Thats the day when Iliana of Devon became Death."

"You mean to tell me, that that young girl, was Iliana of Devon? _The_ Iliana of Devon? She's more of legend than you are."

"She's alot older than she looks, MacLeod. She didn't know how old she was even then. I'm guessing either her memory is pourer than mine or she's much older than I am. In Greece, they thought she was Aphrodite in human form. People would worship her, MacLeod. Yet, she never gained the attitude that went with it, after God knows how long she moved from Royalty in Greece to poverty in England. When I had met her, she was wearing a burlap sack as dress, dirt for make up and her hair hadn't been brushed or cleaned in probably 10 years." He said.

Duncan looked at him. Thoughts were swimming in his mind. "Did you love her?" Duncan asked.

Methos seemed to think about this. "I did. She was part of the reason why I was so easily reformed."

"Why can't you kill her? You killed Kristin easily enough, and she hadn't killed nearly as many as Iliana and you took her." Duncan stated in curious revery.

"As you said yourself, MacLeod. It isn't easy taking the life of a woman you've held in your arms, a woman you've made love to. You and Kristin were together less than 50 years. Iliana and I were together for 500 years. What she said was true, she's gotten on her knees many times, and every single time, she's begged for me to kill her because thats what I've set out to do, and every time, I couldn't do it." Methos said getting up.

"That doesn't answer my question-why?" Duncan demanded.

"BECAUSE!" He yelled throwing his empty beer bottle towards the kitchen, causing it to shatter into the sink. Duncan sat up fast. "I love her. Is that what you need to hear? I love her. No matter how hard I've tried, no matter what I've done, no matter who I've been with, I've loved her. I haven't been able to stop loving her for almost 4,000 years, MacLeod. And every time, every damn time she gets on her knees and begs me to kill her, I can't because I don't know if I could live without her in this world, knowing that she died by my hand."

**Flashback: The Bronze Age Devon, England**

I brought the bear fur blanket closer to my face, as the air had gotten colder with the changing season. I lay naked in this bed of fur, lying next to him. I had long forgotten what purpose my tracking them had original been forged, but now that I was one of them, I felt no need to wonder. Methos and I made love every night. Thought Kronos and the other two barbarians that slunk along in this camp wished that they could have their turn, I was satisfyed with who I had. Love was irrelevant in the lives we led, but if there were a way of loving him, I had found it. 500 years had passed since our fatefull meeting atop that hill overlooking Kingsbridge. 550 years from my first arrival in this infernal land. Though I still missed Greece, I took satisfaction to the pain and suffering I caused. I killed plenty, Pagan or Christian, it didn't matter. All that did was that it was a joyous time and there were a plethera of mortals for the taking. The taste of blood was in my mouth as a permanant reminder of these advents. I knew nothing of conscience or pity, I knew only what Methos had taught me. Kill, live, enjoy. I had to say that I was an apt pupil. First my lessons were rocky, but I was a quick study and completed efficiently and with pride. Who knew that this bliss would be coming to an end? We dressed quickly for the days events. We would be attacking a small village outside of Kent. "Iliana, I want you to stay here for this-these people are skilled beyond our normal range and I won't risk them catching you." Methos bargained.

"Do you think that I am not able to take care?" I asked unable to believe that he did not trust my aptitude.

"I believe you are able, my love. But I won't risk it. Stay here, care for the camp, we will return at dusk." He kissed me. I felt the passion in his soul. We walked out upon the encampment. Everyone mounted up and ready.

"Oh, are you not joining us, Iliana? Pity, we could've done with a good distraction." Kronos jaunted. I picked up Methos' sword to hand it to him. "Ah, Methos, you have your bitch doing everything for you."

"Never call me a bitch, Kronos." With that I took the sword and cut his right eye, a failed attempt at cutting it out. The oafs laughed, Methos went to me and took the sword from my hand.

"Lets leave, before more damage is done here." He said. He kissed me briefly, mounted his horse, and they took off. Kronos swearing as he rode away.

**Present**

I sensed an Immortal approaching before he'd even entered the building. I watched out the window as Duncan made his way to my hotel. The doorman buzzed up, to inform me I had a visitor, I granted the access. I opened the door as Duncan left the elevator. "You knew it was me?" Duncan asked entering and taking off his coat.

"I saw you from the window. Please have a seat. I'd offer you something but I'd have to go down to the market." I said. Duncan laughed and I smiled. He took a seat on the leather couch. I sat on the bed across from him. "Why did you come, Duncan?" I asked.

"I came to find out what you needed Methos' help with." He answered. I got up and walked to the small table in the 'living' area. On it was a file. I handed the manila folder to Duncan. "Artus Kemp?" Duncan asked.

"His watcher was found dead, decapated, on Pier 7 here in Seacouver. Matthew checked in with us before his body was found. Kemp moved to Seacouver just under a month ago. From what little evidence we could gather, we guess it was Kemp who did the beheading. Whether he knew it was a mortal or not, we don't know, but Davidson thinks he knew that Matt was a watcher. All the information we have on him is in that file. Kemp killed over 65 people in Europe before even coming to America and thats over the last year, I'm in charge of finding him and having him locked up, but I can't help it if another Immortal beats me to it. Since 'Adam' wasn't at the meeting, logically he was my first choice. But that was a bust." Duncan closed the folder and sat it down.

"I'll take care of it. Before I forget, you left these." He handed me my coat and sword.

"Thanks." I took them and put them in the tiny wardrobe.

"Iliana-can I ask you a personal question?" He asked. I looked at him.

"Sure." I said shrugging. I sat down on the bed again and he looked me in the eye.

"Why do you beg for Methos to kill you? He says you've been doing it for centuries. Every time you two meet, you fight, then you throw down your sword and tell him to kill you. Why?"

I looked away from his eyes and stood. I went to the window. "Because, before we fight, he acts as though he hates me. When I throw down my sword, I order him to take my head. If he hesitates, it means he still loves me. If he doesn't, whats the point in living anymore?" I finished looking at him. He looked at me as though he understood perfectly.

"He makes it sound as though you were one of the greatest evil Immortals, yet from where I stand, you seem alot like you're not even close." Duncan told me. I smiled brief.

"I was one of the most evil. I was also one of the first. Methos forgets or perhaps he doesn't forget, that he's the one who taught me to be evil. When he left me, for Cassandra, for the greater good, I was angry. I had lived that way for 500 years. I didn't know if I could change. As soon as Methos left, Kronos offered me his place, but only if I were his new consort. I realised my mistake, when he said this. I knew that what Methos and I had had was real. I ran from them. I went back to Greece. I stayed there for 300 years, I spent another 600 in Asia. I didn't kill another Immortal or mortal for 1,000 years. When I thought it would be safe, I returned to England. Methos remembers what I was with him, not who I was once he had left. He assumed the worst. He didn't keep tabs. He just waited for us to meet again. Thats when this started. The last time we saw eachother. We were in Rome, and I had been assaulted by a street vendor. The man was trying to force himself on me. He'd brought out a knife and I tried to take it from him, the man ended up stabbing himself in the heart. All Methos saw was the man fall and my hands coated in blood, with the knife in my hand. He thought I'd killed him in cold blood, he never asked what happened. He just drew his sword, we fought, I stopped, he hesitated. Even then, he hesitated, right afte he thought I had killed a man." I laughed to myself. It sounded a bit hysterical, even to me. Duncan stood and walked over to me. He seemed to understand, and he wrapped sympathetic arms around me. We hugged and I let myself get close for the first time in centuries.

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_Attention: Okie Dokie, it spent me 6 goddamn hours to write this so if I don't get a review, I'll be pissed the fuck OFF! So please review. Unless you can't tell, I'm very passionate about my Highlander and I'm dedicated to making it as perfect as possible. So, please appreciate how much work goes into it. With the flashbacks, I try writing it in a different style because I think it helps paint the reader a picture of how different the times were back then. So, the flashbacks here were Bronze Age and no one is real sure what it was like because there isn't exactly a written history on it, so I guessed, just like the creators of Highlander had too. Remember, review._


	2. Run for the Shadows

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Highlander, thats the creator's joy. I am in LOVE with ALL things HIGHLANDER and have been since the day I was born. If you don't believe me, ask my 'rentals.

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Chapter 2- Run for the Shadows.

_Duncan and Methos' P.O.V._

Duncan watched Methos from the door. He was gliding his blade through the air, practicing his technique. It seemed to be a dance, he was slow with his movements, moving his feet with every changing motion. He was working his muscles as well as his sword. "Is there something you wanted, MacLeod?" Methos asked, not ceasing his dance. Duncan crossed into the practice area, removing his jacket and brandishing the manila folder that Iliana had given him. Duncan crossed his hands in front of him, holding the file. Methos saw the file and looked up to Duncan's face. "Whats that?" Duncan just stood there. Then it hit Methos. "You went to her, didn't you?" He stood up straight. Duncan tossed the file to him.

"I did." Duncan said, walking closer, just a step closer to Methos. "She gave me that. She's not a bad person, Methos." Duncan told him honestly.

Methos looked up from the file. "So, you talk to her once, knowing what she was, and that makes you an expert?" He questioned angrily.

"No. But I know good when I see it and she-"

"She's what? Good? She is not good. She has NEVER BEEN GOOD! You think you know? You KNOW nothing! She's cold, she's precise, she is manipulative and one day-one day, she is going to kill again. And then-then you will see that you were wrong! I know her, and sooner or later she's going to snap." Methos said. Duncan just glared at him. Why was he so blind? They both looked towards the door as the felt another Immortal approach.

"You know, for someone who claims to love her, you sure are blind when it comes to her." A familiar figure amerged from the darkened doorway. Amanda, her hair plantinum blond again, she walked through the door, hands in pockets, looking at the two men on the floor.

"You're back?" Duncan asked. Amanda nodded and smiled.

"I got a phone call from an old, very old girlfriend. I believe you know her, Methos. About 5 foot 4, 110 pounds, long blonde hair, the eyes that brought down Rome, and the voice that melted a million hearts?" Methos just nodded. "Methos, if you can reform, if I can reform, why can't you trust that she can too?" Amanda asked looking him in the eye.

"You always tell me that you can't break the world up into good and evil, but with her thats what you do. You make her evil, so you can justify that you were the one that made her a killer." Duncan said.

Methos looked at him. "You're right, I'm the one that made her what she is. Its my fault that she kills without mercy, because we knew nothing of mercy. And I have to be the one to stop her." He said.

"She's not that woman anymore, Methos. She hasn't been for as long as I've known her." Amanda said.

"And how long have you known her?" Duncan asked looking at her, as though he was surprised that she kept her knowing Iliana of Devon from him.

"Lets see, I met her after I left Rebecca...so it was around 860 a.d...um, a little over 1100 years." Amanda calculated. Duncan looked at the two older Immortals.

"Well, I've known her alittle under 11 hours and I think that you two need to talk this out." Duncan said to Methos.

**Flashback: c.860 a.d., France.**

I wondered through the French country side, taking in the ever changing landscapes. Rebecca Horne, an old friend of mine, told me that her latest pupil was on her own and she wanted me to track her, make sure she was ok. I followed a path until it hit a stream. There had been a string of robberies throughout this area, and I knew that her pupil was a professional thief. Her tracks led towards the stream. I approached with caution, knowing she would sense me anyway. "Who-whose there?" The tentative voice asked. I stepped out of the shadows and met her face to face. "You-you're one of us, aren't you?" She asked.

"Yes, Amanda. I am. Rebecca sent me. I'm not here for your head." I told her honestly. She nodded. I walked around to her and sat beside the young Immortal by the bank. "She's worried about you, scared that you're not ready to face another one of us."

"She's not wrong. Whats are you called?" She questioned.

"Iliana, Iliana of Devon." I told her.

"Rebecca told me of an Iliana of Devon. You're an ancient, aren't you?" She asked.

"I don't think I'm old enough to be called an ancient. I don't know exactly how old I am." I answered. She looked at me.

"You're not French." She observed.

"No. Greek. I think I am anyway, its possible that I was born somewhere else, but I must've spent 1,000 years in Greece before coming over here. You're young. How old were you?" I questioned.

"30. How old were you?" She asked.

"I don't remember. Somewhere around 16, 17 maybe. No matter how old I get, I'll still be a child." I said.

"You were a child. I can't imagine how horrifying it was for you. Its been 10 years since I died and I still can't handle it." She said in awe.

"I never really thought about it before. I just thought it was the will of the Gods that I be this young for all eternity. Being what I am didn't become hard until I left England." I let her know. She looked at me curiously. "My past is not something you should know much about. In this life, we make mistakes, and many of them unforgiveable, and all of them for the wrong reasons. I was a horrible person, one of the worst, and I did it for love. He left me, so I left the country. And we'll leave it at that." I finished. Someone as young as her shouldn't know the horrors I've done or seen, it would break her. "Come, lets get you out of here, I'm not the only one tracking you." We got up and slowly ran through the briar along the swamp.

**Present**

"Captain Michaels, as I understand it, many of your men were on shore when the body was found?" I asked the Captain of the U.S.S. Seahawk, which was docked in at the time of Matt's murder. I wanted to see how many witnesses to the murder I could find, more information I got, the closer to tracking him down I was.

"They were. Why is Interpol interested in some random slash and hack? Shouldn't the local police be handling this?" He asked.

"The victim was one of our men. He was hunting down a known killer in Europe. I'll need a list of the men on shore and a place for interrogations by 4 o'clock, Captain." I said, looking at my watch, which was covering the tattoo on my wrist. He nodded and buzzed his First Mate, Commander Caver. He opened the hatch and we walked down to the wreck room, which he then had cleared. I had given him 20 minutes to get the list and start bringing in men. I set up the digital tape recorder that I had to give to my superiors once we brought in Kemp or Duncan kills him. He brought me the list and started bringing in the men that were on shore leave and that had come from the ship. I had them state name and rank for the record and then let them recount their stories of what they saw once reaching the shore. I had gone through all the men but one. Richard Powell, the only officer that was on the dock at the time of the murder. When I sent out the last enlisted man, I felt his Immortality before he even walked through the hatch. I stood and recongnized him from the Watcher's database, the only question remained, was it Greystoke; who had dropped out of existence after 1997, or Ryan; who was reported dead in 1997. 10 years later, the only way the two could be told appart was Greystoke was 500 years old and had a tattoo on his temple, the Japanese symbol for war. There would be no way to tell until the man removed his hat. I pressed record on the DTR. Powell looked at me, though standing at attention, his eyes were on me. "Lt. Commander Powell, I'm Elena Elden with Interpol. State your name for the record." I said.

In a clear, American voice, Powell said, "Lutienant Commander Richard William Powell, U.S.S. Seahawk."

"Please recount the events on September the 23rd leading up to your discovery of the body of Matthew Avery." I ordered. He recounted the advents the way only an Immortal could recount advents, our memories tended to be better than most. Unless you lived as long as Methos or me. But, his details were changed."Thank you, Commander." I hit stop. "Now, remove your hat and tell me your real name." I said.

He looked at me. "Its off the record." I said.

He removed his hat, no tattoo. "Richard Ryan. Richie." He said. "Now, your turn."

"I don't think that my name would mean anything to you." I removed my watch and brandished my wrist. "Did you know, Mr.Ryan, that you were reported dead by Watcher Joe Dawson in 1997, your body buried in Paris?" I said.

He nodded. "I know."

"Why don't you tell me what really happened the night you found Avery's body." I ordered.

"I sensed another one of us while I was on deck, checking the planes. I was walking off the ramp when I saw him behead the watcher. I didn't have a sword, so I shot him. He ran off. Towards the bad end of town, my old neighborhood. So, um, do you know Adam Pierson?" Ryan asked. I nodded. "So, I guess that means that you know MacLeod then." Again I nodded. "Would you mind not telling him-about me?" He asked. I shook my head.

"I'm sorry, no. As soon as we're through talking here, we're going to go to the Martial Arts studio and you're going to tell Duncan the truth. Dawson told me about the misery your death put him through, and I'm sorry, kid, but your Naval carrier is done."

"Who are you calling kid? I'm 32 years old." I stood up and put on my coat and gathered my papers and recorder.

"Compared to me, you are a kid. Go pack your bags, we'll write your resignation when we get to Duncan's. Go." He left and I went to the Captain's Quarters. I knocked.

"Enter." I went in.

"I concluded my interviews. Your Lutienant Commander Powell will be turning his resignation from the Navy by the time you dock out." I told him.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because, he was on a missing persons list I had and now that he's been found, I'm returning him to his family. Thank you for your time, Captain." With that I left. Richie Ryan met me on shore, his things packed. We walked in near silence, besides Richie's occaisional protests. When we reached the dojo, we walked up to the apartment, where we heard arguing. I listened at the door. _"You're right, I'm the one that made her what she is. Its my fault that she kills without mercy, because we knew nothing of mercy. And I have to be the one to stop her." _One voice said. Methos.

_"She's not that woman anymore, Methos. She hasn't been for as long as I've known her."_ That was Amanda. I knew her voice well.

_"And how long have you known her?" _ And that was Duncan. "Mac?" Richie said, sadness ebiging on his voice.

_"Lets see, I met her after I left Rebecca...so it was around 860 a.d...um, a little over 1100 years." _ Amanda again. Wow, had we known eachother that long. "Who are they talking about?" Richie asked.

"Me." I said. He gave me a shocked look. _"Well, I've known her alittle under 11 hours and I think that you two need to talk this out." _ Duncan again. Then there was silence and I knocked. I had sensed them before even reaching the door, but their arguements kept them from feeling us. I heard footsteps and a hand grasp the door. Richie put his hat back on.

"Elena, we were just talking about you." Duncan said. He opened the door wide enough for us to enter. "Whose your friend?" He asked, taking my coat.

"He's not my friend. But I believe he's yours." I told him. I nudged Richie and he removed his hat.

**Flashback. 1707, Rome.**

"Amanda, I'm going out. Do you want anything from the market?" I asked. Though going to the market was something that we would normally have a servant do, I enjoyed going on outings and went out on errands myself.

"No. I'm fine." I walked out into the cold Rome air. I wrapped my cloak around my bare shoulders. I went out among the peasants in the market. They were smiling, talking to those that they knew and I walked among them, knowing that they thought I was just another Noble who wouldn't spare them a dime. I dropped 3 coins so that they would find them. I bought some oranges and pears, for the cook. Cherries for my own liking. Then went out in search of a dress maker. I saw a vendor in an alley, set off from the others. "Excuse me, sir, do you know where to find the dress maker?" I asked in clear latin. He gave me a smile, his teeth barely there, grossing me slightly, but I remembered that he had not had the same opportunities as I did. Something told me to run from this situation, but I told myself that I was just frightening myself. He pulled out a blade, a small dagger. Before I knew what was happening, he grabbed my throat and crashed me against a stone building. He brought the knife up, smiling toothlessly as he did so. I put up a hand to keep him from stabbing me. I clasped his wrist and used all my strength to keep him off of me. My hand slipped and I clasped his hand just as the tip of the sharp silver touched the swell of my breasts. I shoved him off of me and tried to run, but he caught me. He tried to stab me again. But I caught the man's wrist and I tried to twist his wrist so he would let the knife go. He hadn't notice me twist his arm to where the blade was pointing at him and lunged. The dagger slide into him as easily as butter. I pulled the knife out of him and blood spilled onto my hands and the front of my dress. I sensed another Immortal draw near as this man fell to the cobblestone. I turned. "Iliana." The man said, in a strangely familiar voice.

"Methos?" I questioned. He walked towards me.

"You haven't changed." He said looking at the knife and blood.

"I have, this was a mis-" I stopped as he drew his sword. I pulled mine from its sheath on my belt. "I didn't kill this man, Methos." I told him honestly.

"The evidence is to the contrary." He lunged and I blocked his sword while side stepping out of the way. I threw down the bloody dagger and faced him. I wished with my whole heart that the man would trust me. Listen to me, at the most. He gave me a look of pure hatred before charging again. I sheathed my sword and stood there. His knife went through me, completely. I felt the steal and gasped. It had gone through corset and layers. I fell to my knees as he pulled it out. His eyes were mixed with sorrow and anger. Conflict.

"You've one." I said, painfully. I looked into his blue eyes. He drew back, and I prepared for the final blow. But he stopped. "Will you not finish it? You've broken my heart, and my spirit, you wish not to hear my pleas of innocence, take my head and be done if you loath me so." He just gave me a look of frustration and sheathed his sword. He turned and walked away from the alley.

**Present**

We were sitting at opposite ends of the floor. I was on a weight lifting bench, Methos on a mat. When I finished telling him what happened, he just looked at me. "You really didn't kill that man?" He asked. I shook my head. "What happened after that?"

"I left Rome. Went to Paris. I stayed at the monestary with Darius until the Great War, then I signed on as a Naval nurse for Britain. I've done that for every war since. Then, just before Vietnam, I joined the Watchers. I went by Veronica Kalis, then she was 'killed' in the war. I waited 20 years, and joined as Elena Elden. Methos, when you left the Horsemen, I realized why. I didn't know why I had been with them for so long until you left. Then I left too. I spent alot of time on Holy Ground, trying to make sure that Kronos didn't try to kill me." I told him. He looked at me.

"I have been blind." I looked at him. He didn't move from his spot. "I didn't know-I didn't want to. I've been trying to forget you for 2,000 years." I got up and looked at him.

"I didn't exactly give you any reason to trust me, did I? I'm sorry, for what I've done. I've been waiting for you to kill me, but I knew what that meant when you didn't. This last time, I thought for sure that you'd be able to. Yet, you still threw down your sword." I gave him a questioning look. He stood and walked around the floor, deep in thought. He looked out a window and looked far too serious. I watched him. He moved differently now. Not like he was Death on a Horse, but like he was just Methos. Just a man. Not a god. He wore an oatmeal colored sweater, with the sleeves pushed up his forearms. A pair of blue, Levi jeans and Nike trainers. His sweater sat on his waist, just above the belt line of his jeans. His hair was now cropped short, as is the fashion now, and not a shock of brown hair, matted and uneven. Of course, now, my long golden hair wasn't matted and dirty either and I was wearing actual clothes not an old potato sack. I watched him pace, thinking.

"I don't know what to think of this. I've believed one thing about you for so many centuries and to find out I've been wrong, so desperately wrong. I don't think I can trust you. And believe me, I want to, its just-"

"Hard. I know. I don't expect that this new revelation will bring us together. I don't expect anything from you. I just hope one day that you'll forgive me for what I was and what I did. Until that day, I hope we can atleast be friends." I looked at the clock. "I have to go. Talk to you later." I put my coat back on and walked out of the dojo and into the chilly Seacouver air. I walked towards downtown, keeping my hand on my folded sword. In 1985, I came across a technitian for the American CIA on advanced hidden weaponry. I had recently acquired a Katana, made by one of the few traditional samerai blacksmiths in Japan. This Katana was one of the most brillant to ever be made. I asked this technitian what he could do with it. I needed to find a way to keep my sword hidden, easily concealed from other Immortals or the Watchers. He took the katana and broke it in its two weakest spots and fit it with a lock system and hinges. Then he fashioned an arm sheath that, when a button that rests on the palm of the hand is pushed, rockets the folded sword out. You catch the sword, flick left to lock one fold; flick right lock the other fold. Once locked, you can only fold it back by manually releasing the locks, by running your thumb and fore finger over the lock and pressing. I rarely wore the sheath, since I hadn't gone into battle in so long, its unnecessary, so I carry it in my pocket. I walked the downtown streets, following tracks that led from the docks. I felt the presence of a younger Immortal, not the one of Kemp. I knew who it had to be. "Richie, why are you here?" I asked. I crutched down and picked up the dirt from the tracks and sniffed it. Oil, motor oil. On his shoes.

"Adam said that you left, I thought you might need help, I know these streets better than anyone." He said. I threw down the dirt and stood. Trying to look for the next track.

"Shouldn't you and Duncan be talking?" I asked, finding the tracks again and following them. He followed behind me. "We had our heart to heart. He screamed, yelled, and I wrote my letter of resignation. Now, I'm helping you." I looked at the building in front of me. "Why did you stop?" He asked.

I shushed him. We walked into the automachanics shop. This was where the tracks led to. Judging by the oil on his shoes, he was either working here, or lived in the apartment above. It was closed up tight. I looked at the padlock on one of the garage doors and pulled out a piece of plastic explosive I had in my purse. I also grabbed a small fuse from a bottle rocket that was lying by a dumpster. I pinched off a tiny amount of the explosive and put it on the padlock, around the bars. I pushed the fuse into it and grabbed a lighter I had in my purse as well and lit it. I grabbed Richie and we ran to the other side of the dumpster and I pushed his head down. The explosion wasn't loud, but was effective, bits of the lock were scattered across the empty alley. I grabbed Richie again and we walked to the door. I moved the clasp that used to be the lock, and, with Richie's help, we lifted the garage door. He wasn't home. We walked through to the office door and Richie kicked it open. I grabbed the lock to the upstairs and we unlocked the door. We walked up three flights of stairs, reaching a tiny apartment. Richie started going through paperwork on a living room table. I walked through to the one bedroom and opened a wardrobe. Swords of every kind lay in the wardrobe. I looked at the bottom board that appeared to be loose. I crutched down and shook it open. Inside were pictures. I looked at one, and took in a breath. It was Matt and I talking in London, three weeks ago in front of a small bookstore. I ran through the rest of the pictures. Some were of him, most of them were of me. I took the pictures and stuffed them into the folds of my coat. I felt an Immortal presence and looked out the window, he was back. I ran through the house to Richie. "Come on!" I whispered. He took out a pistol from a pocket in his jacket and shot a window. Then he grabbed my arm and we jumped through the window, landing hard on the pavement below. I felt several bones break, ribs. But we jumped up, limping, the both of us, and ran out of view. I knew he would think we were probably burgalers. I was the only known Immortal that could sense another one of us from that distance. When we'd reached a safe distance, we both passed out.

**Flashback: 1659, Normandy.**

"Dear, Iliana, you should really learn to use the fine art of writing. Come, I'll start your lessons once we return home." Rebecca said.

"But, Rebecca, I have no need to read or write. I've survived countless years without such devises, why learn now?" I questioned her. Rebecca dearly wanted me to be a scholar but what was the point of using such things? Writing had been around for nearly 3,000 years and I still found it useless. The presence of an Immortal approaching caused our conversation to hault. We looked out unto the woods. Two men came closer and closer to us. One of them with pipe in hand and the other, a handsome blond with striking eyes. The blond removed himself from his horse and looked at us both.

"Rebecca Horne, lovely as ever." He said, kissing her hand. He turned to me. "Who is this beauty?" He asked turning towards me, stretching out a hand. I raised mine to him and he clasped it, kissing the top of my hand. "Connor MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod at your service." He spoke in a soft Scottish accent.

"Iliana of Devon." I said, breath taken away at the handsomeness of this man. He was absolutely charming.

We all sat around Rebecca's parlor, our drinks being served to us. The man with the pipe, I soon learned, was Hugh Fitzkaren. He was a flirt, but spoke of notions of romance, that seemed to draw in Rebecca's favors. He was handsome enough, but I couldn't help but be drawn towards the Highlander. His eyes never left me, even on the ride back to Rebecca's home. I stood for air, away from the smoke that rose from Fitz's pipe. I always considered pipe tobacco to have the most wretched smell. I walked through to the study and looked out of a bay window onto the vineyards. "May I join you?" A familiar voice said. I smiled to myself briefly before turning round to see MacLeod standing there.

"Certainly, Mr.MacLeod." I said politely. He came foreward slowly.

"Please, call me Connor. I must say, Iliana, you are a beauty. Legend says that you are, but it doesn't give you justice." He said.

"Legend? I didn't know that I was legend, nor that it said I was a beauty." I told him honestly. He stood beside me now, and I took in his intoxicating scent.

"You are. One of the oldest Immortals. Everyone has heard of you. Some believe that you are myth, like Adam and Eve." I smiled. "You're youthful appearance must help hide your age." He interpretted.

"Aye, it does. But to look so young can be a curse. I am never considered serious." He touched my cheek, caressing it gently. His face drew near.

"I would always consider you serious. You are a prize and to be in the presence of such a prize and not be greatful would be a sin." With that he brought his lips gently on mine. I was surprised at this action. I had not been kissed in centuries. But this was nothing like the kisses I had been given by Methos. This was a touch of tendor expression. Of longing. Not the kiss of fire fed passion. This was a different type of passion. And it was wonderfull. For the first time since my seperation from the Four Horseman, I felt a touch of loving affection. I wanted to feel more. Connor drew back and looked at me, into me, with that intense gaze. "I apologize for-" I cut it off by laying another tendor kiss on his lips.

"Never apologize to me for showing passion, Connor MacLeod. You'll find that I enjoy it." We kissed again.

**Present**

We woke in an alley. My bones were completely healed and Richie's too it seemed. We got up. Kemp was on my mind. The photo's stuffed into my jacket meant something bad. I just didn't know what. We had to get back to MacLeod. Richie and I used eachother to hold us up as we walked back out onto the downtown streets. Richie walked to a motorbike on the side walk. He threw a leg over and sat on the bike. "Get on." He said. I nodded and got on the back. I held on to him. We sped off towards the dojo.

"They should be back by now." I heard a voice saying as we reached Duncan's door. "I'm going-" The door opened and he stopped. Duncan had a coat in his hand and looked at us. I knew Richie looked bad, I must've looked worse, because Duncan rushed to me and wrapped my arm around his neck, practically carrying me through the door. Methos and Amanda looked at me. "What happened?" Duncan asked Richie as I sat down. Methos came around the couch and cupped my face in his hand. He looked at every cut. They were healed, but blood must've dried on my face. Richie told them what happened. Methos unbuttoned my coat. My broken bones and cuts were healed but bruises took longer. I was bruised all over. When he opened the coat, the pictures spilled out.

"What are these?" Methos asked picking them up.

"I found them, in Kemp's armoire." I told him, pain trickling along my jaw. Methos looked through them and then handed them to Duncan. "He was targeting us. Me and Matthew. He must've thought that Matthew was the Immortal." I said.

"Well, now he knows its you. Methos, watch her. Amanda, you and I are going to Iliana's hotel and grabbing her clothes. You're staying here." Duncan said.

"No. I can't-"

"He knows where your hotel is." Duncan said handing me two pictures. The first one was of me entering my hotel, the second was me looking out the window of my hotel room, the day Duncan came to visit. "Richie, get to bed." Richie nodded and laid down on the couch. Methos helped me up and we walked to the spare bedroom. He helped me remove my boots and sat them to the side. He went to a closet and grabbed a shirt. Methos had me lift my arms, and unbashingly, he removed my shirt and looked at the settle hues of brown, blue, and purple on my torso. He slipped the shirt on my head and I threaded my arms through. "Unbuckle your pants." He said. I did. He removed my pants carefully, revealing more welts and bruising. He drew back the covers on the bed and carefully he sat me down.

"You don't have to do this." I said.

"I need to do this. Why would you go off by yourself?" He asked, lifting my legs, careful to avoid a sore spot, but hit one anyway, I drew in a breath. "Sorry." He laid them gently on the bed. The satin sheats helped with the pain.

"I had to track him. And I had Richie with me." I said.

"A lot of good that did." He sat beside me.

"I have a job to do, Methos. I just don't understand why I'm so bruised, it was just a 3 story drop." I said.

"Landing on concrete hurts worse. Get some rest, you'll be healed up by morning." He made to leave.

"No. Stay. Please." I asked. He looked at me.

"I'm not sure-"

"Just lay here, for a while. Just until I fall asleep." Slowly he nodded and walked to the otherside of the bed. He removed his shoes and climbed under the soft covers. He held me against him.

"We'll be friends." He whispered against my hair. Sleep came easier that night than it had in a long, long time.

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_Attention: Ok. That was chapter 2. Remember, there is a plot line! So, sex comes later. Leave me reviews, give me suggestions and tell me what you want to see. I like hearing opinions. Tell me what you think. Review people! Well, as for my hp story _The Triumvirate_ I don't know when I'll be updating, I have to figure out how to continue it now that there's no longer speculation on how book 7 ends and I need to know what people need out of it. So, read, review, and look for the next chapter!_


	3. Death be a Lady

**Disclaimer:**I don't own it. Wish I did.

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Chapter 3- Death be a lady

I woke up in a slight daze. Strong arms held me against a rather taught body, but I couldn't recall why. I opened my eyes slowly, soaking in the sunlight. Then I looked up at the sleeping figure. Methos still looked like a beautiful dream when he slept. It was then I remembered everything from the night before. I had asked him to stay close, still slightly freaked by the fact that I had a stalker. That a good friend was killed by mistake, it should've been me. Slowly, carefully, I got up. I felt arms grip tighter around my stomach and I fell back onto the bed. I looked up at the smiling face of Methos, still pretending to be asleep. I reached up and kissed his jaw, then his cheek, then I slowly got closer to his lips. He was squirming but not running. When I got a millimeter away from his kissable lips, I stopped. "Let me up." I whispered. He groaned and let go. I got up, and looked around for some pants. I was in just a sweater, his sweater. I opened the door and looked in the hall, my bags lay beside the door. I grabbed them and pulled them inside. I grabbed a pair of jeans and put them on. I opened the door again.

"Where are you going?" Methos asked.

I turned and looked at him. "To make some tea." I answered. He smiled and I left. I went into the kitchen and found a kettle on the stove top. I grabbed it and put it under the faucet. When it was full, I put the kettle back on a burner and turned it on. I also started some toast and beans. I didn't know if Methos had succumbed to the American jam on toast, but I desperately needed something familiar. When I was in London, I ate beans on toast every morning. Nothing sounded better at this point than that. Jet lag still hadn't caught up with me, but I knew, sooner or later it would. The fact that my plane trip over here was only the second time I had been on an airplane didn't help. I heard the elevator shaft move and then stop. I crossed from the kitchen and watched as a woman with shoulder length brown hair step out. She looked at me with disgust. "Where's Adam Pierson?" She asked. Then she looked at what I was wearing. "Who are you?"

"Iliana, I think we have to throw this away, love." Methos said, coming in from the bedroom, holding my shirt from last night. He stopped. "Melanie." He said, slightly in disbelief. She gave him a death glare. Just as this was happening, I saw Richie jump up from the couch and walk over. He took the shirt from Methos.

"Good morning, Elena." He said and he kissed my forehead.

"Richie." Melanie looked at us. Richie bent down to my ear.

"Pretend we're lovers, I'll explain in a minute." He whispered. I nodded. He put an arm around my shoulders. "Adam, aren't you going to introduce us?" Richie said looking at Melanie. Methos shook his head clear and nodded.

"Melanie Shaffer, this is Elena Elden and Richie Ryan. Elena, Richie, this is Melanie Shaffer, my girlfriend." Richie held out his hand for her to shake, she did. I started to do the same but decided against it. I crossed back to the stove where the kettle was whistling and removed it, placing it on a heated pad. I turned off the stove burners where the kettle and where the beans were. I turned the toast.

"What are you making?" Richie asked, curious but disturbed.

"Tea and Beans on Toast." I answered. He scrunched his face in disgust. "What?"

"Beans on toast? You put beans on toast?" He asked. I nodded, curious at his revelry. "Adam, help me out here, we seem to have a culture clash." Richie said looking at him. I glanced up as I grabbed four cups from the cupboard.

"Whats the problem?" 'Adam' asked.

"Beans on toast." Richie said. Methos smiled.

He explained that thats what we eat in London. "Is there enough for me, Elena?" He asked. I nodded mutely and grabbed some plates. I made the tea.

"What do you like in your tea, Melanie?" I asked her. She glared at me.

"I don't drink tea." She said hautily.

"Fine." I replied and I dumped her glass. Methos ate his toast in silence, watching the glares pass between Melanie and I. Richie did the same, minus the toast.

"I guess we'll be going." Methos said after finishing. "See you guys at Joe's." With that he and Melanie left. I ate my toast, not looking at Richie or Duncan, who had just entered the room. Duncan walked into the kitchen and made some of the toast as well. Duncan looked at me.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. I looked up.

"Fine." I said. I was lying. I had a bruise that had survived the night. Though most of my body had healed, there was a bruise on my left side that remained. It had been a yellow color last night, now it was blue. I tried to walk around the small island, but grazed the counter, causing a gasp, involuntary gasp to escape my lips.

"Fine, right." He placed his toast down and came to me. "Let me see." He asked.

"Duncan, I'm fine. Really. Its just leftover bruising from where the ribs were broken. It'll be healed by lunch, promise." He wasn't convinced and watched as I walked wincingly to the couch.

"Mac, she had to meet Melanie." Richie tried to whisper. I could here him talking. Richie was a smart kid. He knew that I was more upset than I let on.

"And what did you do?" Duncan asked him.

"Put my arm around her and acted like we were together. It was all I could think of. Besides, I couldn't have passed her off as your girlfriend."

"Whats that supposed to mean?" Duncan asked incredulously.

"I look younger than you." I suppressed a giggle as they walked in. Duncan sat in a chair opposite the couch, but Richie lifted my feet and sat down, then replaced them on his lap. They chatted about random things for awhile, Richie telling him about his ten years in the Navy, constantly apologizing for lying to him.

**Flashback: Madrid, Spain. 1832.**

Connor walked with me as I browsed the shops of Madrid. The marketplace was buzzing with the newest goods and fashions. We were staying with Don Alejandro Chavez, a wealthy land owner, who lived on the furthest edge of Madrid. Connor and I were spending the day in town while the Don took care of businesses of state. Suddenly, we felt the presence of another immortal approaching. Connor moved closer to me and we both put hands on our swords. A man came up to us, a familiar presence surrounded him. Then-I saw his face, a scar was across his right eye. "Kronos." I whispered. Connor held me behind him as the man came closer. The Don was behind him.

"Ah! Colonel Montoya, this is Lord MacLeod and Lady Kyrie. Connor, Elaina, this is Colonel Luis Montoya of her Majesty's guard." I was shocked. Kronos was being of service to a country? It had to be a ploy. "Colonel Montoya will be traveling to the New World, to one of our towns in California as a governor. He is doing me the honor of being our guest at the hacienda tonight for diner before he boards the ship." I met Kronos' eyes and glared.

"How kind of Colonel Montoya." I said, stepping around Connor's shielding body and into the line of fire.

"Please, Senora, call me Luis." Kronos said, putting up a fake charm. He knew who I was.

"Very well, Luis. What village in California will you be governing?" I questioned curiously, but he knew my reason for the desired knowledge. I wished to find some way of contacting Methos, so he may find and kill Kronos.

"Santa Helena, on the coast, near the Mexican border. Now, Senor MacLeod, might I escort this lovely vision to the carriage for you?" Kronos asked Connor.

Connor glared. "You'll have to ask her." I had an idea of what he wanted, to talk without them overhearing. I nodded silently and took his arm. We walked a few paces behind Connor and Alejandro, far enough to ensure privacy. "So, Iliana, what have you been doing these past centuries?" He asked.

"Staying out of the pillaging business. And, you? Plotting to steal money from the peasants in Santa Helena?" I guessed. He was unoriginal.

"No, of course not. I am serving my queen." He said.

"Enough of your act, Kronos, I know what you are-who you are and you serve only yourself and your libido. Or do you forget why I left the Horseman?"

"You left us because you had no brains. You thought because Methos left with his tail tucked that you could do the same. Where did you run to, ancient?" He asked.

"A monestary, in France. The monks took me in and a friend healed my dangerous path." I told him, honestly.

"Ah, and which friend was that? Certainly not MacLeod?" He asked, eyeing Connor in disgust.

"No, Connor is only 300." I told him.

"Dating children, are we?" Finally we reached the carriage and he helped me in.

I leaned into Connor and he held me to him. "I grow tired of Madrid, Connor. I wish to return to Paris soon."

"Certainly."

**Present.**

"Iliana-what did you do, when you left the Horseman?" Richie asked curiously.

"Richie." Duncan said reproachfully.

"Its fine, Duncan. I'm not ashamed to talk about my life." I told Duncan. I removed my legs from Richie's lap and got up. I went to the kitchen and poured some more tea and took in a breath. "I left England, went to Paris-well, the village where Paris would be. There was a small monestary there and not much else. There, I met a monk. He was nearly 200. For nearly that long, he'd been the same as I was, a killer, but he bordered on warlord. But, he took the head of a good immortal and gained the knowledge of what he'd taken-he left his life and joined the order. He never killed another soul. He stayed on holy ground for the better part of his life, and was even in his chapel when he was killed." I didn't look at any of them. I knew that Duncan had met the monk in question during the French Revolution. Duncan knew that I was talking about him.

"Darius." Was all he said. I nodded.

"If it wasn't for Brother Darius, I might not have changed as easily as I did. I stayed in the monestary for nearly 500 years, moving with Darius. Until I met Rebecca Horne, she taught me about the aristocracy of Europe, training me as a noble-woman. I left her, seeking enlightenment. I went home to Greece, learning more and more about life. But, I was called back to Rebecca in 860, to find and protect Amanda. Then I returned to England. In 1707, I returned to Rebecca's chateau. There, I met my first lover since Methos. And I loved him. You knew him as well Duncan. You knew him-god, did he love you. He talked about you all the time, how he worried for you, how he cared. The last time I saw him before he died was when he ran to find you-because he knew what had happened to the tribe of the woman you loved. We had just came to the New World, staying in Boston. He heard from a traveler that the tribe was attacked, so we parted. I had business in California." I stopped, choking, thinking about how we had parted. We left-kissed our last-no, I had to stop. Tears fell down my face. Richie crossed the room and put his hands on my arms and squeezed. The gesture made me turn around and let him hold me. For 5000 years old, I was still a child sometimes. He held me tight against him.

"I'm sorry." He whispered softly in my ear. Americans, I thought. They apologized for nothing that was their fault. I hugged him back. When the tears dried, we walked to the couch. Duncan took my hand.

"I hadn't known that you and Connor were lovers. I'm sorry." We all sat on the couch in silence for awhile.

When we arrived at Joe's, we counted on Methos and Melanie already being there, so Richie and I held hands. Amanda and Duncan entered first. Richie and I stayed outside for a second. "Look, I'm sorry about dragging up those memories-"

"Don't apologize, Richie. You've done nothing wrong. You've actually been surprisingly nice to me, even though we met just 2 days ago." I told him, looking up into his blue eyes. He was quite handsome. He saw someone behind me and looked at me.

"Kiss me." He said.

"What?" I asked.

"Kiss me." He leaned down and I met his lips. His kiss was perfect, everything it should be. I kissed those lips as if they were oxygen. My arms wrapped around his neck automatically, his arms circled my tiny waist, drawing me closer. We both forgot, in that perfect kiss, why we had begun to kiss. His tongue begged entrance and I granted it hungrily. We met with a messaging of tongues, his kiss deepening, his arms tightening-but then we broke the kiss. It took us a minute to recover, my breath coming in slowly. "I'm sor-" I cut off his apology, not wishing to hear it with my lips. This kiss was soft, chaste, but ever so sensual.

"Don't apologize. Never apologize for a kiss." I told him. He took my hand and we walked in. Joe, Amanda, Duncan, Methos, and Melanie stared at us. Amanda walked over to me, just as Methos' hurt eyes met mine.

**Flashback: Boston, Massachusetts. 1840**

"ILIANA! Where are you?" Connor called from the doorway. I ran in from the bedroom. We had been in Boston for only 3 months. When I saw him, he looked fearfull.

"What is it, love?" I asked as he took me in his arms.

"We have to cut our plans short, Ana. I have to go to Duncan, his tribe was attacked-"

"Why are you here? Go to him. I'll get on the first stage to California. You must run to him." He nodded and kissed me.

"I love you." He said.

"I love you, too." And with that he ran to Duncan's side. I walked to the stage office and paid for my ticket, then returned and packed my bags. I was on the stage to California. The trip was a lengthy one, but when we reached Santa Helena, it didn't seem that long. I was to stay with the local bachelorette at her hacienda, but I wasn't met by the wealthy Donna, I was met by a man in a Spanish Guard captains uniform. He wore a cheeky smile and his blue eyes told the story of his life. He was a killer.

"Lady Kyrie." He tipped his hat. I curtsied but rolled my eyes at the American. "I'm Captain Marcus Grisham. The Colonel asked me to escort you to Senorita Alverado's hacienda." I nodded and got into the carriage that was waiting. He took my bags and laid them beside me. I kept tight grip on my sword.

We arrived at Donna Alverado's 3 hours later. The entire trip, my eyes did not look away from Captain Grisham. I didn't trust him. He helped me off the carriage and I tied my sword around my waist once more. He grabbed my bags and I knocked on the door of the hacienda. A young gypsy answered, she must be her hand-maiden. "I am Lady Elaina Kyrie, is your mistress home?" I asked, giving the servant a bow.

"I'm sorry, but she is out. Please come in and I will prepare your room, ma'am." She said.

"Call me Elaina." I told her looking at the inside of the luchious hacienda.

"I am Marta, Ms.Elaina." She said. Grisham helped Marta take the bags to my room and I removed my cloak. This place was amazing.

**Present.**

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Amanda asked me.

"No. Why?" I asked. Richie had walked to Duncan and the others at the bar.

"Methos and Melanie saw yours and Richie's little display. Melanie came in calling you a whore and Methos has been on the deep end. You need to talk to him, tell him it wasn't real." She begged. I blushed."Whoah, wait, what was that?" She asked.

"Um..." I started. I tried to think about whether it was real or not, could I let myself be with Richie? Knowing that Methos is not but 10 feet from me, forgiving me, loving me as of old-"I don't know-I'm not sure if it was real or not, Amanda. I don't know if I want it to be or not." I said in complete honesty. Amanda nodded and we hugged sisterly. Methos got up, took a sip of his beer and walked over. I looked at him. "Hello, Adam." I was quiet, my voice small. Since when had I, Iliana of Devon, been afraid of anything? Never, until now.

"Elena-may I speak with you? Outside?" He asked. I nodded and looked at the others. Melanie was glaring. When Methos took my arm, to escort me, Melanie stood up and walked over angrily.

"You are _not_ going outside with that whore!" Melanie yelled. I looked-no, glared at her.

"I am no whore, child." I said. Methos backed away slowly, knowing that I did not take insult lightly.

She merely laughed. "Child? You're no older than 20, I can guarantee that I am older than you are." At that I laughed.

"Don't boast your age. Or are all American's as fickle as you?" I said.

"Fickle? Don't use big words, men don't like to pay for a woman who speaks. Even if you are only $2." Alright, now I was pissed. "I am no concubine, you lowly-snivelling-conceited-sodding-piece-of-swine. You would do well not to incure my wrath." I said, letting my anger show.

"You think that you can have him? Adam and I have been together for months! Just because some little slut walks through the door from merry fucking London, doesn't mean he'll leave me for you!" She said.

"I DON'T WANT TO TAKE HIM FROM YOU! Adam and I are just friends and you should learn to hold your tongue. Believe me, if I had any desire to take him from you, it would've already happened! But, I am with Richie-see him? Over there with the red hair and blue eyes? Thats who I love and thats who I'm with. American slim." She slapped me. A very girly slap. Was I going to take it? A girl no older than 40, slapping me? HELL NO. I doubled my fist, drew back and slammed her right in the nose. She fell down, passed out. Her nose bleeding. With that I walked out the door, I ran into the parking lot before callapsing on the ground, crying. Why? Because I'd hit her-because I had said that I didn't love Methos-because now, he would believe that I was the monster he thought I was.

"Elena?" Someone asked behind me. I wiped my eyes with my glove and turned. Methos stood before me, concern in his eyes-not anger, not hatred-concern and love.

"Adam." He took my hand and lifted me up. He drew me into his arms. I was shocked at first, then let him hold me. "I shouldn't have hit her."

"No, you shouldn't have. But-I don't blame you. She's been jealous-ranting and raving about you since we left the flat. I'm sorry that you had to deal with that." He hugged me tighter.

"I'm sorry that I kissed Richie. I didn't-I'm sorry. It was just to make her stop being jealous. Not anything else." I told him.

"Its fine." We looked into eachother's eyes. Really looked-for the first time in a long time. His lips drew closer and closer-

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Attention: Ok. I got ch.3 up after forever! How much do you love me? Anyway, hope you loved the cliffhanger. Things get very, VERY interesting next chapter. So tune in for more. 


	4. If you could Only See

**Disclaimer:**I don't own it. Wish I did.

Chapter 4- If you could only see

_"I'm sorry that I kissed Richie. I didn't-I'm sorry. It was just to make her stop being jealous. Not anything else." I told him._

_"Its fine." We looked into each other's eyes. Really looked-for the first time in a long time. His lips drew closer and closer-_

**Methos's P.O.V.**

Methos tried to resist kissing her, but he couldn't. Their lips were millimeters apart. She fell. "Elena?" He watched as she fell down. There stood another immortal-they had been so wrapped up in each other they hadn't sensed him. "Artus Kemp." Methos deduced.

"Very good. Who are you?" Artus asked.

"Adam Pierson." Methos said. As he went for his sword, Kemp pulled out a gun and shot Methos in the heart. He passed out.

**Iliana's P.O.V.**

I woke up in strange surroundings...what happened? The last I remember was Methos' lips getting closer-then nothing. I looked about the room, sitting up on the table. There were wine bottles and various other liquors in the small room. I called out, "Hello?" A door opened across from me and Richie walked in.

"You're up!" He exclaimed and walked me. He gave me a tight hug and I returned it.

"What happened?" I asked him. His blue eyes looked at the door then back at me, nervously.

"Kemp attacked, sorta. We think he was trying to kidnap you, but Duncan came out just as he shot Methos." He explained.

"Shot?" I asked in disbelief. The young immortal just shrugged and nodded. "Help me off this table, Richie." He did as he was told and picked me up off of the table, no wonder no feared me when they should. Or feared me when they shouldn't. Walking out of the room, I realized that we were in the supply closet of Joe's pub. Joe was in front of us, behind the counter. Methos was at a table, nursing a long neck beer. Melanie sat beside him, looking positively furious and confused. Duncan and Amanda sat at the bar, discussing something. When Duncan saw me, he stood and walked over to me.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. I shrugged.

"Perfectly perfect. All bruises are healed now, at least." He smiled and hugged me. Amanda followed suit. Richie stayed close at my side as Melanie stood and walked over to me. She slapped me as hard as she could, and my head jerked to the side with a snap. You'd think that she'd have learned the first time. Methos stood, but was frozen in spot. I turned killer's eyes to the woman.

"Melanie!" Methos yelled.

She ignored him and glared at me, seemingly unafraid of the look I gave her. "You lying little bitch." She said.

"What, pray tell, did I lie about?" I asked in a flat tone. Duncan, Amanda, Joe, and Richie moved back, whereas Methos took a step forward. He knew that I wasn't happy.

"You told me that there was nothing between you and Adam. He just told me everything." I looked at Methos.

"Everything?" I said cocking an eyebrow at Methos. He shook his head and said,

"Not everything." That got Melanie's attention. She faced him, turning her back to me.

"What did you leave out?" She questioned.

"I'd like to know that as well, _Adam_." I put emphasis on his alias. He shook his head, answering the unspoken question. He didn't tell her that he was Death. Then, I noticed something on her wrist that I hadn't before-she was a watcher. Her tattoo was there, plan as day, just as I, Methos, and Joe had one.

"Things that you couldn't ever possibly understand, Mel." I turned the child to face me.

"You're a watcher-so you know about them?" I asked. She looked at me in shock, then I pulled up the sleeve on my right side and revealed my tattoo. She nodded.

"I didn't know that my boyfriend was one and a watcher-I didn't know that you were either." She said honestly.

"I had no idea that you were a watcher-but then again, I hadn't known that Adam was a watcher until about a week ago."

Methos came up to us both. The evil look was gone, but I was still ready to strike and he knew it. But the look wasn't that of hatred at my dark side coming out, it was of understanding. He knew how I felt and with his movements, he showed me that it was alright. "So, how old are you?" Melanie asked me.

I couldn't tell the truth, so I lied, "700." I told her. She looked at Methos and said,

"She's older than you, but she looks so much younger-"

"Our age isn't determined by our appearance, Mel. Its just a number and the knowledge you carry. You must not tell anyone about either of us." She nodded at his request but turned back to me.

"You were together?" She asked, her voice held jealousy but an unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

"Centuries ago. What I told you was true, Melanie, I no longer love Adam the way I did. We're truly just friends." The look that Methos gave me said that that was the furthest thing from the truth that was possible. He still loved me and I him. If we hadn't been so blind through the centuries, we may have remained lovers. My heart ached as he led Melanie away and out to the car. I turned to Duncan and the others. Richie placed his arm around my shoulders, but I shrugged him off. I didn't need comfort, I didn't want to cry. But even as I thought it, the tears welled up into my eyes. Duncan came to me and encircled me in his arms and I cried into his shoulder. I knew that this wasn't Duncan's thoughts-he didn't hold me the way you hold a friend, he held me the way you hold a lover. The other Highlander that resided in Duncan's soul was coming to the surface. Connor. "Shh...I'm here, Ana." Connor's voice rang from Duncan's mouth. The same raspy voice that I'd fallen in love with. I squeezed Duncan.

**Flashback: Santa Helena, California. 1840**

"Marta, if you'll excuse me, I have business with the Colonel in town. Do you think your mistress would mind if I borrowed a horse?" I asked the gypsy.

"No, Ms. Elaina. Would you like me to have Hernando hook up the carriage?" She asked me. I shook my head.

"The horse is fine, just have him saddle it for me." I went to go get my riding bonnet and sword. I would be meeting Kronos and I knew that we'd end up fighting. I rode the horse into the small town of Santa Helena. It reminded me of the villages centuries ago. You didn't see small towns like this any longer, unless you were in the New World. I tied the horse to the post in front of the governor's house at the center of the town. Before I even entered the building I felt the presence of an immortal behind me. I turned, thinking that it was Kronos. It wasn't. I drew my sword as I faced Methos. He looked just as he had that night in Rome over a century earlier. His sword mimicked my own.

"What are you doing here?" He growled at me, fury in his eyes.

"Taking care of business. You?" I said it in a wistful tone, as if we weren't standing in the middle of town with swords ready to strike.

"Same. Come to meet an old lover?" He asked. His eyes held rage in them now.

"I hadn't known that you'd be here."

"I didn't mean me, Iliana." Someone laughed behind us. An evil chuckle. Kronos walked up to us, placed a hand on the hilt of both swords and lowered them. Surprisingly, we let him.

"Lady Kyrie, I had not known that you've met our extinguished Doctor Helm before." He lied through his fake accent.

"Lady Kyrie?" Methos asked in a sarcastic tone.

"Doctor Helm?" I mimicked as I placed my sword in the sheath. I turned to Kronos. "We have business to discuss, Luis. The _doctor_ may join if he pleases." I said walking towards the house. Methos and Kronos followed.

When we reached the office, Kronos sat down behind his desk and looked at us. "Where is your MacLeod, Iliana?" Kronos questioned, the accent gone.

"On business in the Indian Territories. Your men attacked a village belonging to his clansmen." I told him.

"How do you know if it was my men?"

"Because your the only person in this country that would order such an attack on innocent people." I said angrily. Methos huffed. "What?" I growled at him.

"Nothing, Iliana. Absolutely nothing."

"You came here for a reason, Iliana. The attack is insignificant." Kronos blew off the whole incident. I glared at him.

"Very well-I know that you killed the Alvarado girl's father, Kronos. I know that you are pulling this village into your web and I am here to stop you-"

"You talk big, Iliana, but I know that you haven't taken a life-let alone a head-in nearly 300 years. I do not believe that you would take mine." Methos made a coughing sound from the corner and we both looked at him.

"So, you haven't told your old lover that you killed a man in Rome over 100 years ago, did you? She's not changed, Kronos, no more than you have." Kronos looked at me as though he were shocked.

"You no nothing of which you speak, Methos-Kronos has talked to my priest and knows the truth of it." Kronos gave me a shocked look. "Did you not think that Brother Darius would tell me that you came poking around after seeing us at the Don's hacienda? You didn't question him under the sanctity of the confessional, he spilled the beans about one of the most evil immortals ever created asking questions. Which brings me to my threat, which isn't idol, you don't stop this scheme and I will take your head, and if I cannot, the Highlander will." I didn't take my eyes off of the man. He knew I was dead serious, but he didn't care. He threw up his hands and said,

"Bring it on, Iliana."

**Present**

"So, Kronos and Methos were just living in the exact same village together for years and never crossed swords?" Richie asked in disbelief. We were at the flat, talking in the living room. Duncan and Richie were both finishing up their beers, Amanda sat with me, her arm around my shoulders, in comfort as I recounted our time in Santa Helena. I nodded.

"He failed to mention that." Duncan said in a not so friendly voice.

"Don't blame him, MacLeod. He couldn't do anything as long as the Queen of Swords was around. I had assumed that she was immortal, but when I learned her identity, I knew why Methos never stepped in. If he had, it would reveal their past together and the whole of the village would find out. They were on thin ice as it was. The Queen would think that she took care of it, then he would move on. Kronos was behind the attack on your tribe, Duncan. Of that much I can assure you." I said looking at the Highlander.

"I took care of him."

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Cliffhanger absolved! I know, I know, it took me forever and you were all in suspense. haha. Remember to review! 


	5. Notice

NOTICE TO ALL READERS

**NOTICE TO ALL READERS!**

**IMPORTANT INFORMATION!**

OK! I know, I know, I'm positively an evil bitch for not updating any of the stories! I am so sorry! Senior year is a busy one and I've hardly had anytime, but bear with me and they will be updated! **UNTIL THEN**, I recommend a story/author for all of you to enjoy while I'm in my creative faze. The story is called, _**You Are My Everything**_, and the author is **LizzieElena**. She is a very close friend of mine and unfortunately hasn't received any review for her hard work on her latest, and first published, creation. It's a very good story. And her writing style is very similar to mine, which I'm sure you'll all like. The story is **Heroes** related so, if you don't know anything about the TV show, then you might be lost. But, please, read her stuff and I'll get these stories updated as soon as I possibly can.

Thank You,

SunnydaleGoldenGirl.


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